Circular Thinking

I've been thinking a lot about circles lately.

I've been thinking of all the ways in which they're incorporated into our lives and the phrases that we speak regularly.

Take, for example, "going in circles."  It's either literally going in circles, as in being lost; or the feeling of going around and around in a conversation or a thought process without ever reaching a logical conclusion and always returning to the same place you just were. (Kind of like talking to a two-year-old.  Or the cable company.)

I can tell you that, quite literally, I have gone in circles since moving to Oregon.  Not that this has anything to do with location.  I am what some might call "directionally challenged."  I have no sense of direction.  I never like it when a person (or a GPS) tells me to go East.  I mean, I understand cardinal directions, and I know where the sun rises, but if it's high noon, night time, or cloudy, how can I figure out where East is?  I have gotten lost and ended up going in the wrong direction everywhere from mall parking lots to European streets.  It took me basically my entire life to learn my way around Reston, where I lived til I was about 23, and Manassas, where I spent the last 26 years of my life.  (I still don't really know my way around Oakton or Fairfax, where I lived in between those two stints, and really, Reston has changed and grown so much that I no longer recognize it and get lost there too).

Since I've moved to Oregon, I have expected to get lost, even looked forward to it as a rite of passage.  I read somewhere that to get to know a new town, you really shouldn't use your GPS.  But seriously, I couldn't even find the bike path along the Willamette River (which is literally right behind my apartment building!)  So I used the GPS for the first week or so, and then started testing myself.

I had to go to Walmart (sad, but true). I had been there several times already for necessities like a broom and a shower curtain and laundry detergent and even furniture! (The closest IKEA is two hours away in Portland).  I felt like I'd been there enough times for the route to have become ingrained in my brain.

Do you know where this is going?  Or will you need directions?

Yup, you guessed it.  I did not find it, and after getting frustrated and ending up on the freeway, I put my GPS on and it took me on a circuitous route (another circle!) that literally had me entering and re-entering the freeway over and over again, quite definitely going in circles!  Now, I will admit that it wasn't entirely the GPS' fault.  I get confused when it says, "make a slight right" and there are two choices to go right.    But you get the point.

Ask my friend Pam about me and directions.  She'll tell ya.  We went to Europe together summer before last, and the ONLY arguments we had were about how to get somewhere.  I'd be staring at a street map, pointing to a location, saying, "We're here, right?" and she'd agree we were, indeed, there.  "And we want to go HERE, right?" I'd ask, pointing to another spot on the map.  Again, she'd agree.  "So we turn right!" I'd state emphatically and triumphantly, and she'd shake her head and say, "Nope." And I'd demand that I was right.  And she even gave in a couple times to prove to me that I was not correct at all. I had to give her the map after doing that a couple times.  I had to let go and let Pam.

There was one trip in Bordeaux to a local grocery store, where we left the map at home because the store was just down the street!  How hard could it be to get back?  And yet, upon exiting, it only took us a block or so to realize we were not headed home and nothing looked familiar.  We ended up going back to the store.  Turns out it was a CIRCULAR building with many doors and exits and streets like wheel spokes at each exit, and we'd exited a different door than the one we'd come in.  But it was Pam who found the right one.  I cannot be trusted.

Then you have those circles we use when referring to friends and family.  "Doesn't she have a lovely circle of friends?"  "They really don't spend time in the same circles."  And the saccharine, "We've built a circle of love around our family."

When I arrived here in Eugene, I missed my circle of friends back home.  Or should I say circleS.  I had my teaching friends and my church friends and my Arbonne friends.  Different circles for different areas of my life.  I knew I needed to meet a new circle of friends, so I joined a church and a choir, a Toastmaster's club, a women's networking group.  The choir is fun, and we've already sung a couple ROUNDS.

What's interesting about friend/family circles is that we are often so afraid to allow them to intersect.  Like a giant Venn Diagram, we decide if our circle of friends from childhood can mix well with our circle of friends from our stay-at-home mom days.  We look for that intersection where the two circles make a skinny oval that says, "they all like wine!"

But circles seem exclusive when looked at this way.  I've decided that rather than different hoola hoops of friends and relatives that may or may not cross over, my circles expand, like ripples in a pond.  I've thrown myself into the middle of the pond of life, and my splash has made ever bigger circles that include a variety of lily pads, frogs, turtles, and algae.  And rather than keeping them separate, I just keep expanding to let more in.  I like this perspective more, don't you agree?  You can't even follow me, can you?  You're wondering if you're the frog.  And the mixed metaphors are really messing with the logic.  Well, at least it's not circular in nature (get it?  IN NATURE?).

But let me circle back around here, because in this great circle of life, which can sometimes be a 3-ring circus, we often TIRE of repeating life's lessons, which can leave you spinning in circles and retreating into a fetal position.  (Work with me here...babies are kind of round when in their mommy's tummies...okay, that's stretching it.  Oh my gosh!  Get it?  STRETCHING it, as in a momma's belly?  Okay. Wait.  Now I'm way off course.)

Someone get me my GPS!

Green Flags and Silver Linings

I've noticed that most people come at life with suspicion and an expectation of what will go wrong.  We "prepare for the worst" and "listen to our gut" to weed out any "red flags."

This propensity to go towards the negative really doesn't serve us so well...though it may well have back when we were living in caves and looking not to be eaten by wild beasts.

I myself have spent the majority of my life as a self-proclaimed pessimist, using the excuse that if I expect things to go badly, at least I can't be surprised except in the case where things go quite well, and then am surprised in a most pleasant way.  Doesn't that make sense?  In our ego-filled, avoid-pain-at-all-costs mentality, it sure does.

However, these last few years, I've been slowly moving the needle in the other direction, moving towards not only a less negative view, but actually embracing possibility and potential!  Dare I say, I've begun to expect AMAZING things to happen?  And have started appreciating the lessons learned when things don't go as planned or as hoped?

Aside from my own disbelief and failure to recognize myself these days, I am enjoying this rewiring of my brain that I've been undergoing.  It's really quite a lot more fun and gratifying, and it feels good, darn it!

So now, I've shifted from red flags to green.  Instead of looking for warnings and signs of danger, I am not only looking for but FINDING many signs of possibility and feeling gut feelings that lead me towards the good and the nurturing and the positive.

Here's an example.  I'm going to back up a little and share a sad story.  My dear Dad, Bert, passed away a year and a half ago, just four days shy of his 90th birthday.  At his memorial service, we told funny stories and shared about his life.  And one of the musical pieces we played was Louis Armstrong's "Wonderful World."  Dad really loved Armstrong, and he really loved that song.

Since then, that song has come to be a "green flag" for me, signaling Dad watching over me and guiding in me in the right direction or in some cases, pushing me towards something I am not 100% on board with.

Only days after his memorial service, my sister and I went to dinner.  Our relationship had been rocky and iffy for a while, and it was a slightly awkward meal.  As we left the restaurant and walked to our separate cars, we gave a wooden hug to one another.  I turned to walk towards my parking space, and heard a faint piece of music.  It seemed it might be coming from another person's car, but I looked around and couldn't find the source.  Could it be coming from the gas station across the street?  No, it felt closer.  And wait, I recognize that song!  It's "Wonderful World" and it's Louis singing it!  What???

As I opened my car door and started to slide inside the driver's seat, the sound seemed to follow me.  I then realized my iPod was still in my purse.  I had downloaded the song to be used at the memorial service.  Now, my iPod was off, OK?  But somehow, it had come on and to that exact song.  Sure, maybe I nudged it in my purse somehow, maybe during that stilted hug.  But of all the hundreds of songs?  I texted my sister right away (she hadn't pulled out of her space yet).  I shared what had happened, and we both agreed Dad was reaching out to us.

OK, let's first get something straight.  I do not go for "signs" and don't really believe in spirits or angels.  I'm kind of scientific and agnostic and all that.  But I had to admit, this felt like...well, a sign.  Dad wanted us to make the effort to repair our relationship, and it felt like he was applauding our effort.

So, perhaps that was all random and pure chance.  I can actually resonate with that explanation.

But then, so how do you explain that when I went to see my daughter last weekend to say goodbye, I had another sign?  My daughter and I have really had a rocky road, and since Dad passed, we have barely spoken.  That story is not a story for today, but suffice to say, our meeting was also quite awkward (for me, anyway).  We went to lunch at a Thai restaurant in downtown Richmond, and as we sat waiting for our food, side by side at a counter looking towards the street, in an almost parallel-play type of set-up, I heard the canned music.  Usually, it's Thai music right?  Or whatever ethnicity the restaurant you're dining at is.  This was covers of songs, and it sounded a lot like Rod Stewart.  And he was singing...you guessed it.  "Wonderful World."  Not once, but twice (was the music on a shuffle and looping back?  Did my daughter and I need a second smack in the head?)

So now I was thinking, boy Dad really wants me to make bridges here.  And I want that too, of course.  But the coincidence (or not) of this song appearing again (twice!) was notable.

OK, so maybe you're thinking this is sort of odd.  And if it is Dad, maybe he nudges me to fix family relations only.  But nope.

As I disembarked from my plane in Portland, wondering if I'd made a huge mistake, but mostly excited if exhausted, lugging my poor kitty in his carrier with my aching shoulder, in search of the baggage claim area and the car rental kiosk, I heard a grand piano playing.  Sure enough, the Portland Airport has a classy grand to greet you as you land.  (Hey that rhymed!).

You already know the punchline, right?  That happy, cheesy piano player was playing none other than Dad's song, and I literally KNEW Dad was saying, "go for it, kid."  He approved of my adventure and the risk I was taking, and he was letting me know he was there to watch out for me.  I looked over my shoulder (where I've envisioned him smiling at me) and whispered, "thanks Dad."

White Canvass

There is something about flying literally above the world that gives you a freedom to think outside of the boundaries of your earth-tethered life.  As I took off from Reagan National Airport, leaving DC and Northern Virginia behind to find new adventures in Oregon, I cried some mostly anxious tears (with a salting of mother-child separation), and then, attempting to hide my tears from my seat mate, looked out the window, wiping away the traces with my ninja tissue.

I saw the earth growing smaller and the city and its drama and its history and its roots diminish beneath me.  And then, as if on cue, the clouds we entered began to obscure my view of the highways and the buildings and the life I'd known for 54 years.  And as I pondered the meaning and tried to think of intelligent pithy things to think and say about it, the clouds grew denser, creating an entirely blank, vast, white canvass.  The symbolism wasn't lost on me.

This life I was headed towards was completely unknown and unwritten.  My planner/Type A self had of course arranged lodging and transportation, and I had a vague idea of initial steps to take...find a home, buy a car, get connected to people ASAP via church, Toastmasters, the local Chamber of Commerce, etc.  But other than that, I didn't really know what to expect, and I didn't have a clear vision of what my life would be.

I feel radically blessed because most people who move are going towards something--perhaps a job--or away from something--maybe a relationship.  Or at least I've imagined that's what they do. 

But I have been given the golden ticket.  I have a means of income that doesn't care where I do it from, and in fact utilizes its mobility as a positive vehicle of growth.  I can do my job in Virginia FROM Oregon, and also create new possibilities in Oregon as well.  So, it's not a job I'm going towards nor do I have to worry about finding employment.

The only significant relationships in my life are my children and my friends.  I'm not going to lie. Leaving them was HARD.  But distance doesn't end our connection in any way.  It only makes it logistically more challenging to touch.  I feel completely open to any new relationships I may encounter, be they of the friendship, business, or romantic type.  I'm not going specifically to look for a husband.  But I am open to the possibility of meeting any number of possible partners.  I'm not intent on finding a new best friend.  Yet, I'm anticipating all the new friends and acquaintances with the fervor of a new book by a favorite author.  What will the characters be like?  How will they enhance the story?  And in this case, the story is MY LIFE. 

Lots of people asked me before I left, "Are you so excited?"  I think I am only beginning to truly realize the expanse of this new chapter and the potential for growth in my heart and mind as I experience the NEW.  

Orphans of the World

Remember the movie "Sleepless in Seattle?"  Actually, I don't remember much about it except that Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks played the same characters they played in "You've Got Mail."  But the title is what I recall, and what I relate to this moment.  Except I'm not in Seattle.  I'm still in Virginia.  And I've definitely had a few sleepless nights.  My favorite one?  When I realized I'd used all my comforters and blankets to pack my belongings in the pod, and I stood in my empty room staring at my tiny twin air mattress and thought, how's this gonna work?  And then I got practical and put on layers and used my thick wool coat as a blanket.  Except it kept slipping off all night, along with the cat, who was my true source of warmth, and I really didn't sleep much.  But anyway, it's not Sleepless in Virginia that I want to talk about.  Actually, I am currently Homeless in Virginia.

Today was the day.  I closed that door (literally and figuratively) for the last time.  I signed the papers and handed over the keys.  I read the final number and wished it were being wired today instead of next week (because I've managed to rack up some bills during all this hullaballoo).  And then I drove away.  Little Bo kitty went with my son, Gray, in his truck to spend the day while I ran errands, had lunch with friends, and slipped in a chiropractic appointment (air mattresses plus packing plus bad back equals chiropractor agreeing that I am a "hot mess").

And I thought, I don't have a home.  Not here, and not in Oregon either. Oh, worry you not, I have a place to sleep.  The kindness of friends has been overwhelming...lunches and dinners and a room with a bed, and when I get to Oregon, I've got my sister and her husband to put me up when I need.  But, I don't have a home.  For the first time ever.  It is truly a different and unique feeling.  There is no where to return to.  I, however, am adaptable!  I can sleep on couches or guest beds or foam mattresses or air mattresses or futons.  It's all good!

Bo is another story.  This poor baby.  He spent all of this morning and into the afternoon wedged behind the toilet at my son's father's house.  I brought him to the friend's house where I'm staying for the next few days, and guess where he went?  Behind the toilet.  Eventually, I thought he might be cold and lonely, so I dragged him out, his claws attempting to find purchase on the tile floor, and brought him into my room, setting him gently on the bed atop that same wool coat/blanket.  I pet him and cooed at him and told him what a good boy he was for a good 10 minutes.  And then I slowly stood up (my back creaking and protesting at the awkward position I'd just been in) and he immediately dove for the pillows and burrowed into them, making a nest cave kind of thing.  And there he's been for about 4 hours now.

I'm a little concerned.  He hasn't had anything to drink all day, and he hasn't used "the facilities" either.  I did coerce him into eating his dinner (which is imperative since I crush his seizure meds into tuna twice a day to prevent said seizures).  But he's dug himself even deeper, and I wonder what I'll find in the morning.  Hopefully not a urine soaked pillow.

And sadly, poor guy, the torture will continue for at least a week.  After several days here, we go on the plane.  This, I am sure, will be traumatic...for me if not for him.  I did ask the vet for sedatives...for me.  Once the long day of travel finally ends, we'll be at my sister's, and then at an airbnb, and then, hopefully, at our new home.  So he's got a lot of pillow-burrowing to do over these next weeks.

I think that he and I represent different ends of the coping spectrum.  We are both experiencing a lot of change and uncertainty in a short amount of time.  We are both out of our element and depending on those who like/love us to make sure we're safe and cared for.  But while I've accepted that discomfort and change will be the feelings du jour for a while, he has not "leaned in" to all of this, to quote Brene Brown, and is suffering from the self-inflicted pain of resistance.  I fear his path will be a lot rockier than mine.  Then again, he doesn't have to do anything but sleep it off while I figure things out, so it may be that his tortured existence these next few weeks is still far less labor-intensive and requires far less mental energy than mine,

Let's Make a Deal!

My head is absolutely spinning. I just experienced the height of modern-day basement sale frenzy over the online posting of all my furniture on a yard sale site.

Holy Moly!

This is not your average yard sale.  And may I say, I have schlepped many a box of knick knacks and boxes from the attic out to driveways and yards and street corners over the years, and you plop your hiney down in a camp chair with a hot cuppa something, and you smile as people slowly drive by to see if you're worthy of their uninterested poking and prodding of your slightly used but unwanted stuff.  And then you get nickeled and dimed to death over pot holders and beach umbrellas and those custom window blinds  you bought that were about an inch too narrow for the window.  And then you spend hours outside, sometimes in the heat, sometimes in the cold, sometimes fruitlessly making a few bucks and then having to haul it all away to Salvation Army in the end, which you could have done in the beginning and only had to lift it all once and had the rest of your day ahead of you.

But this?  This?  It's pure insanity.  Have you tried this?  You post pictures and descriptions of your belongings on a Facebook page and within seconds, your phone is dinging and that number in the toolbar of your Facebook page is counting to 10 and 20 and 30 messages that you have to respond to, and people ask you things like, "will you take $25?" for a solid wood dresser and mirror that you asked $50 for even though it's worth $100, or "do you deliver?  I'm about an hour away"...um, NO.  Or you mainly just get lost trying to track who asked first and wondering what the etiquette is about giving first dibs to people who say they want something, and then don't respond to the answer you just gave them, and meanwhile 5 other people ask about the same item but you have to say, "um, it's not sold, but it's also not available at this moment, can I get back to you?" and then you realize what you just said and you know that there is NO WAY you can possibly remember who you said what to in what order and THEN some lady yells at you the next day because you sold the gardening cart that she said she wanted and then she went dark on you while someone else was like, "hey I'm down the street, can I come pay cash right this second?".

And I'm no slouch.  I tried this once back when I first put the house on the market and did some judicious decluttering to make the house seem more open and appealing.  I learned from my mistakes.  You definitely need to write down who you talked to and how much they offered and when they said they'd come get it.  And you learn to say phrases like, "that's a firm price" or "it's yours if you can come get it today" and "if you can haul it yourself, I'll take that price!"

So I did.  I wrote down every first acceptance and how much we agreed on and the person's name and when they said they were coming to look at it.  And I was working that mouse like crazy responding to every inquiry and saying yes it's available or no it's sold or I'll let you know if the person doesn't pick it up (cause that happens a lot too.  People say they're coming and then...don't.  And you've already taken it off the site and told people it's sold, and so you have to put it back on or reach out to those people you said were in second place in line).  And then you have to remove the picture or mark it as SOLD.  And because I posted on my personal Facebook page AND the online yard sale page, I had to do it twice with each item.

And oh Lord!  The revolving door that was my house this afternoon and evening!  People coming and going and texting me and calling me and the money that exchanged hands!  And just because it rains when it pours, I also had a client drop by and a friend bringing me soup in the middle of it all.

And now it's about 6 hours since I first posted everything, and I've sold 3 book cases, a sectional sofa, an end table, a pub table and chairs, a credenza,  my dining room table and chairs, my entire bedroom set, another bed and another dresser, three standing lamps, an extension cord (!), and a toaster.  I also gave away for free one Humpty Dumpty garden ornament, one piece of wall art created by a four-year-old preschool class in 1993, one white serving platter, and a shoe rack.

And I'm not even done.

I love that technology can help with this process and speed it up and help me accomplish my to-do list, but honestly, I'm exhausted, and I really didn't like getting yelled at over Facebook messenger when someone was more responsive sooner than someone else.  Mostly I'm grateful that I conquered this beast that, frankly, I'd been avoiding due to my anxiety over using technology in the first place, and letting complete strangers know where I live and invite them into my home.  One lady kept looking at things that weren't for sale and asking if she could have them.  Like, for example, my car.  She kept saying, "I really want a car."  Yeah, um, well, see, I'm not selling that, and I kind of want/ need it myself, see...

Let's hope I can find furniture in Oregon as fast as I was able to sell it here in Virginia!

Leaving the Nest

I always thought that the natural trajectory of one's life included going off to college and having an adventure.  As a parent of college aged kids, I thought the natural steps were that THEY would go off to college and I would be left an empty nester, either wallowing in tears and in need of a puppy, or hooting and hollering in celebration as I started planning outings with friends.

Well, I never left for college.  Introvert that I am, I stayed close to home, literally.  I commuted to college and enjoyed the quiet and privacy of my own bedroom.  No dorm parties for this girl!  I guess my parents didn't get to wallow or whoop it up.

And now, at an age where my own children are the ones to be leaving, I find it is me, instead, that is departing the nest.  An unexpected turn of events for all involved.

This sojourn to Oregon feels like what I imagine it WOULD have felt like had I gone away to college or off to a new job after graduation.  And I got to wondering, how similar, really, are the two?

So I went online and found an article describing the 8 things first year college students fear the most.  Let's see how I compare:

1. Am I smart enough?
Well, I'm assuming no one will actually make me take any tests or give me any grades as I muddle through this unknown territory of living on my own in a strange place.  But, on a certain level, I suppose I wonder if I'll "make the cut."  I mean, I've got a business to run...will I be able to keep up with whatever business acumen people in Oregon have?  As an Oregonian with no experience being an Oregonian, can I even call myself an Oregonian?  And will I be judged by my ability to pronounce "Willamette?"

2. Will my roommate be weird?
Well, that's an obvious one.  He is indeed.  My cat Bo has OCD and licks window blinds and all the fur off his belly.  THAT'S pretty weird.

3. Where's my new best friend?
I do wonder this.  My best friends are currently on the east coast and I'll be far away, though only a phone call away.  But I do think about the possibilities.  Maybe a new awesome friendship awaits me.  I certainly hope I find some gal pals to hang out with to see movies, do lunch, go for bike rides, go to the theater, practice yoga...lots of possibilities.  I'm optimistic and saying things to myself like, "What if my next new friend has a vacation home at the coast that she frequently invites me to?"  That kind of thing.

4. Will I be okay without my folks, my dog, and my car?
At my age, my "folks" aren't so much parents or even family, but my people.  My church community has become my family, and I will miss them terribly, and have relied on them for so much over the years in the way of support and guidance.  I am happy to report that I have already connected with some people at a church in Eugene, so hope to develop a support system there too.  I don't have a dog, but I do have a cat, and he is my roommate, so I don't have to live without him!  And car...yes, that's still up in the air.  I'm selling my car here in Virginia, renting a car for a week when I get to Oregon...and then?  Still don't know...biking is very popular there, and I've never tried Uber...we shall see.  Also, my company car, a white Mercedes Benz, is available at my next promotion...

5. Where's the party?
See, this one flummoxes me.  I didn't go away to college cuz I didn't want to be forced to party 24/7.  I'm not saying I never did, but it wasn't my reason for going to college.  And now, 37 years later, I find I don't drink, don't like to stay up late, and avoid large crowds.  So, unless you are defining "party" as a few friends hanging out cooking together or some happy five-year-olds popping balloons, I'm not looking for a party.  But that being said, I do hope to make friends and connections and have a social life.

6. Peer pressure for sex.
Well...unless there's some things I don't know about Oregon yet, I'm fairly certain this won't be an issue.  Now, I do hear that Portland has an annual naked bike race...but naked and sex are really two different things, and Portland's going to be about 3 hours away.

7. Where's the money?
Hopefully, in my bank account from the sale of my house here in Virginia, and quickly to be followed by an avalanche of success as my business takes off into the stratosphere!!

8. Is it safe here?
I have thought about this, being a woman on her own.  And I guess it boils down to this.  I mostly trust people are good.  I don't roam dark alleys alone at night with my head down, and just in case, I bought a pepper spray.  But joking aside, of course there's apprehension about the unknown.  But I do feel confident that my life will be good, and certainly no LESS safe than here in Manassas.

So off I head to my new adventure with the greenness and enthusiasm of a high school graduate mixed with the experience and confidence of a mature woman.  A mature woman that apparently likes hanging out with five-year-olds popping balloons.

Getting There Part I

Have you ever noticed that, even when you're planning an amazing, relaxing vacation, the logistics of actually planning it are incredibly stressful, often expensive, and super time consuming?  I mean, it's not just reservations on a plane or train or cruise ship.  It's getting passports, or shopping for the clothes you'll need (or that satin money belt from REI that you read online was the best one, and there isn't even an REI that close).  It's the planning the route, if you're driving, which means maps or GPS, or lots of online research as to the best wineries to stop at or which restaurants have Gluten Free (GF) menus.  It's planning an itinerary, particularly if you're a Type A, must know The Plan kind of person like me.

When I went to Europe the summer before last, we had SO much planning and research to do.  We were going to three countries and staying in four Airbnb's, and flying and taking trains and subways.  Then there was the packing.  I mean, pack enough clothes for 10 days, but still not pack too many clothes since we each only wanted one rolling bag and a backpack.  And then it was finding good walking shoes, and breaking them in.  And going to AAA to get money converted to euros.  And finding someone to watch the cat.  And making sure the bills still got paid.  And trying to eat everything in the fridge before you left.  I mean, it's stressful.

Now making a move is a whole other kind of stress.  And I've moved a lot in my time.  Let's see.  Okay, I'm going to count here, hold on....so I think it's seven times?  (I guess that isn't much compared to a military family, but it feels like a lot!)

But guess what? They were all in Virginia!  Sometimes in the same town in Virginia (my last four houses have all been in Manassas over a 25-year period).  So, sometimes we did it ourselves, sometimes with movers, but never far and never packing that carefully.

Now I'm going across the country!  That's a little different.  And I'm going alone, so no one on the other end to help me unload.

It was because of this that I decided not to bring any furniture.  I don't even know where I'll be living yet, so I wasn't sure what would fit or what I'd need.  Plus, it's flipping expensive to move your stuff!

Originally, my son and I were going to drive a small U-Haul out to Oregon, and tow my car behind us.  We'd take turns driving, I'd get to spend some time with him, he could help me with the cat and unloading the truck and keep my company.

But then I thought about my sciatica.  And I thought about not being able to "work" for 10 days and the cat being in his carrier for so long.  And towing a car...that sounds difficult, slow, and dangerous.

So, instead, I decided to sell the car and fly out with the cat.  I'd ship a few meager belongings to myself.  Mostly boxes full of books and art and all my Arbonne paraphernalia.

So wow.  The options.

Option 1:  Use professional movers with a truck.  Well, basically I don't have enough stuff to warrant a truck,  Plus it's expensive. Plus no end point to deliver it all to.

Option 2:  Ship boxes on a TRAIN.  Did you know you could do this?  I found some article online about the cheapest options to ship stuff, and this was it!  Sadly, though, I'd need to be able to pick it all up somehow on the other end, and I won't even have a car!

Option 3:  Use PODS (and when I say PODS, it's like saying Kleenex.  I may or may not be referring to the brand PODS, but just the type of transport, because it stands for Portable On Demand Storage--and the editor in me kind of flinched there, because I happen to think on-demand should be hyphenated here.  But I digress).

Anywhoooo...PODS seemed like the best method.  Why?  Well, because I can have a fairly small one delivered to me, load it myself, have it driven across country, where it will be stored until I've found a home and can have it delivered, whereby I can then unload it.

There are a lot of PODS companies out there!  And they all would sure love you to commit already to scheduling with them.  You try to get a "free quote" and end up on the phone with a customer rep who really wants you to PICK A DATE now.  They promise you can back out, but isn't that kind of like signing up for a month of free Netflix?  They kind of figure you'll forget to cancel the subscription (which I have!) and then you keep getting charged.  Except this isn't $9.99.  It's like $3,000.  YUP.  $3,000.  Or thereabouts.  It depends on whether you want a container made of plywood or metal, and whether you want it to be water proof or not, or stored in a climate controlled space or out in a parking lot  when it arrives.  That kind of thing.

I finally settled on U-Pack, which promises the best construction, IMHO, of their pod, and while costly, seems to meet all my requirements.

And so now, it's a question of scheduling.  I realized that, I need to be out of the house by closing... that's when the new people get the keys!  And that means I need to schedule pick-up before that day, and pay the PODS people BEFORE closing on my house, which means that nice little sum I'm making from the sale of my home will not be available to pay them until AFTER I go to closing.  Okay, slight fly in the ointment, since I don't happen to have an extra $3,000 to cough up just now, as I was busy spending all my free cash on fixing up my house so I could sell it!  Sigh.

So, as a compromise, I am waiting til after the home inspector comes tomorrow on the off chance that they'll find something terribly wrong and unsafe that I'll have to fix (with that non-existent cash of mine) before we can go to closing.  But, staying positive...all will be well...breathe.  After the home inspection, I can call and reserve the PODS (I don't want to keep spelling that with the "S"...I'm only getting one container, one POD...but that only stands for "portable on demand").

Crossing my fingers and toes that the inspection goes well, and slowly mobilizing myself to pack a few boxes.

I will slow down the blog posts to once a week after I get myself out of town, but there is so much to consider, to decide, to negotiate, and to address in the next few weeks.  And lest you think this will turn into a never-ending rant, have no fear.  My plan is to chronicle meaningful events and exciting adventures, not just mishaps and frustrations.  It's just that at this moment, my life is ruled by chaos and mess.  :)